Light in the Darkness

Today I overflow with thanks as I worship with https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Sjc37QPwLw

Ours is an amazing God. He is always working. He is always good. Always love. Always truth. Always peace. Always forgiveness. Always light in the darkness. Always hope. Always joy.

For days a grey mist has hung over this area of the world. This afternoon the blanket broke, striped with streaks of gold and pink, revealing a blue sky beyond. So much to thank God for. The grey mist may hang for a day or a month or a year, but God has the last word. The blanket will break and the light will shine and the world will worship with a thankful heart. Every knee will bow and every 

tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

Jesus Christ is Lord. Amen.

Shotgun!

He took the corner wide and fast, perhaps distracted by the three vehicles behind him, certainly not focused on what might be coming in the other direction.

We were. We were coming in the other direction.

My neighbour and I were on our way to the pool, not anticipating an Aberdeenshire council highways maintenance truck to be careering round the corner, on the wrong side, at speed. The driver reacted just in time, pulling his big truck over towards the Mill while we took evasive action. I waved my arms at him in futility, and then we parted ways, carrying on with our journeys as if nothing had happened. As if a near-miss collision had never occurred.

It could have been different. A few seconds either way, and perhaps tragedy might not have been averted. As it was, Mary and I went swimming, and he went to work.

How many times has my life been preserved by a few milliseconds? Years ago, Mhairi skied down a slope in Andorra, oblivious that an avalanche was virtually following her. She only discovered the near-miss when she reached the bottom and was told that a café halfway down the hill had been buried in snow. It could have been her.

We are not always saved from tragic – difficult – situations; but whatever the outcome, we have a faithful God who is always with us, weeping when we weep, rejoicing when we rejoice.

I don’t need any other reason to be giving thanks as Thanksgiving is celebrated, though I have dozens of reasons to be thankful. But mainly I am thankful to the Lord who rides shotgun with me through life, whatever happens.

Thank you, Lord.

Mouldering leaves

Weeks ago, the leaves drifted and dropped from the trees, many landing on the tarmac driveway. Much has been happening in my life lately, and it was only today that I thought I might bag a few to compost.

I wielded the heavy outdoor brush, pushing and pulling, shoving and dragging, and partially cleared about 10 square feet of driveway. Heavy rains have saturated the leaves, making them heavy and sticking them to the ground. In under half an hour, I had over-filled a black (sorry, plastic…) bag with so many leaves I could barely lift it.

Things drift into our lives. They drop from messy situations, fly from difficult encounters, blow down during the storms that periodically hit us all. We can tidy them up, bag them and wait for them to decompose into rich fertiliser to inform our lives. Or we can leave them to lie, mouldering and growing heavier.

Jesus invites us to bring our mouldering leaves to him. He advises us to focus our eyes on him, not on circumstances, not on ourselves, not on others. It is in the focusing on him that we are relieved and our burdens are lightened.

The theory is divine. The practicing of it is difficult, oh, so difficult.

That’s why he gives us his Spirit, to help us. Jesus did it all, because of his love. That’s the kind of love I want to grow in my life. That is the real gift of Christmas. His love, in us, with us, for us. All of us.

Foretaste of heaven

A foretaste of heaven. Great worship at church; a new worship song written by our own talented Stuart Fyvie; brilliant prayers; a sermon that spoke to my heart. Home by the fire with Judy Garland crooning out Over the Rainbow. Tonight back to church for Worship and Waffles.

Nothing more to say except a big Thank You to God for the oases in our lives, when we can slip out of the fast lane and into His comforting presence, drawn in close to his heartbeat, safe in his arms and aware of his love for the world, and for me.

I pray everyone reading this will be blessed by such oases this week. Thanksgiving indeed.

Swimming in the Matrix

I struck off across the width of the pool. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Only the deep end was open to swimmers as the shallow end was taken up with a parent/child swimming class. So no lane swimming. Whew. Only widths. Back and forth. Back and forth.

I am not a confident swimmer. I have always struggled to really believe I am not going to sink. I have signed up for lessons, determined now, as I approach my four score and ten, that I will conquer the fear and learn to trust. Trust that my body is buoyant. Trust that a few simple movements are enough to keep me afloat. I don’t need to flail. Flailing exhausts me and stalls my progress.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Forty times in as many minutes. Back and forth and over and out.

Next week I will seek to increase that number. But for now, forty widths is good. I am getting stronger.

I am learning to trust.

Commit your way to the Lord, the Psalmist advises. Trust in him.

It is the Lord who keeps me afloat. The Lord who directs my steps. The Lord who gives me breath and blesses me in a thousand ways every single day.

Swimming in the matrix of the Lord, I will not sink. He will help me to persevere; he will transform my mind and soften my heart; he will enlighten and inspire me by his Holy Spirit.

I am so grateful.

Take Care

We headed down the road for our early morning walk, stepping a little tentatively on the white-fringed leaves and glassy puddles. Frost picked out the bare branches and sparkled on the lacy webs. A hush prevailed.

We walked slower, more carefully, than usual, yet still, at the halfway point Mary slipped and nearly went down. Reluctantly, we turned back, not wanting to risk a broken wrist or ankle. The results of one misstep can take weeks or even months or years to rectify.

Some situations in life require care. A word blurted in frustration or anger can take weeks, months or even years to heal. Only in Christ can some words be healed.

Note to self.

Never Alone

Today the rain sweeps across the field in waves, like an endless stream of people on the march. How the Australians must long for such precipitation in New South Wales and Queensland, where fires blaze out of control! Father, send your rain.

God speaks in every season, in every circumstance, in every language and in the silence. He speaks in my plenty and he speaks in my pain. He never leaves me nor forsakes me. In the sprint when trouble strikes out of nowhere and is quickly resolved, he is there. In the marathon where challenges stretch to the farthest horizon, he is there.

I am grateful for such a faithful Father. I am never alone.

Water, water everywhere

Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink. My Dad used to quote that line from Coleridge’s Rime of the  Ancient Mariner, and it always echoes in my mind when the rain falls as it has here over the last few days, puddling and flooding fields all around us.

As we approach Thanksgiving, though, I think with gratitude that yes, there is water everywhere here, and there is lots of clean water to drink.

The basis of life, denied to so many across the globe where fires rage in drought-stricken lands, or where annual rainfall has reduced and whole populations ration what water there is.

I will give you water that bubbles up from within, Jesus said to the woman at the well, a woman whose life was parched in more than a physical way. Jesus saw her deep need for soul-drenching refreshment. He sees our deep need for the same thing, whether we are richly blessed with rainfall or not. The drought of our souls does not reflect the amount of water in reservoirs or wells. It is consequent to the frenetic pace, the immersion in a materialist world, the pressure to achieve and acquire.

You will never thirst, Jesus promises. All we have to do is come to the source of the water and drink deeply.

Fingerprints

We followed the path winding through the customs hall, eventually being directed to an empty station where we could enter our passports and declare we had nothing proscribed. Being the US passport holder, I went first, followed by Don who, not being a US citizen, had to position his right hand on the ‘reader’ so his fingerprints could be taken.

It happens every time. Missing a couple of fingertips, he has to repeat the exercise three times, after which he is instructed to use his left hand. Thankfully it is intact and we can then progress through the customs hall and out into the bright California sunshine.

Thanks to Jesus, our real citizenship is in heaven. We are all aliens here on earth, and when we transition from earth to heaven, we won’t have to pass a fingerprint test nor have a passport which is in date and from the ‘right’ country.

We only have to love Jesus, and we’re in, living with him forever. Oh, so grateful.

Eternal Roots

Back in the prayer window, gazing southwest across the valley. Most of the orange and yellow leaves have dropped from the Norwegian elm, blown off by winds and pelted off by rain while we were away. Scolty Hill is clearly visible again through the bare branches. Nobbles on the tree trunk, unique and beautiful, are revealed.

My dear Mom. Many of the traits I associate with her have dropped now, in her 96^th year. But clearly visible is her grateful, loving heart, her deep faith, the beauty of her soul.

Autumn is a beautiful season. Poignant and heart-breaking as it is to watch familiar traits disappear, when the trunk is sound and strongly attached to the roots of the Lord, the beauty is achingly awesome.

I am so grateful that whatever the future holds, we will always be connected through those eternal roots.